


The Matter of Marriage

by RosiePaw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosiePaw/pseuds/RosiePaw





	The Matter of Marriage

The headwoman’s daughter giggles as she pours John another cup of tea, watches him through her eyelashes as she offers a plate of fruit-filled pastries. She either hasn’t realized that she’s literally young enough to be his daughter or she doesn’t regard this as an impediment.

Headwoman Ruara gives the girl a stern look. "Colonel Sheppard," the headwoman says, "I do not know your people’s customs in the matter of marriage."

John chokes on his tea. Even Teyla displays a brief flash of alarm, although you’d have to know her well to catch it.

"But it is perhaps universal," continues Ruara, "For young people to have silly notions." Her tone is as confidently, comfortably middle-aged as her rubenesque figure and the streaks of grey in her reddish curls. In another quarter century or so, Ruara’s daughter will look much like her mother.

John has hardly less grey in his own dark hair. He’s sensitive about it, a weakness for which Rodney teases him unmercifully. Speaking of which, where the hell _is_ Rodney?

"I remember my own marriage." Ruara’s smile is reminiscent. The daughter sneaks an eyeroll in John’s direction. _Mom tells the same story _all_ the time!_ says the eyeroll, and, _This is soooo embarrassing_, and, _You and I are both way cooler than Mom, right? _

John focuses on Ruara with such conspicuous attention that the corners of Teyla’s mouth twitch.

"As you know, our people are famous for the cloth we weave. It is our main trade item. My husband comes from a renowned family of weavers. I myself, my parents are traders. I began accompanying them on trade journeys when I was quite young – as I think you did with your own parents, La’a Emmagen?"

Teyla smiles and nods.

"A boy from a weaving family, a girl from a trading family, it was quite natural that our parents should arrange our marriage. But he was three years younger than I, a mere child in my eyes! Oh, how I wept and wailed!"

Ruara chuckles. Her daughter looks sullen. John’s not sure whether that’s due to his own lack of response or Ruara’s implication that the weeping and wailing of teenaged girls is humourous.

"Of course, after all these years, a difference of three years is as nothing. We have four fine children, and our families prosper. And we have grown to be comfortable with each other. To tell the truth, if I were to lose him now, I would lose half my heart as well." She eyes John expectantly.

"Sounds as if it worked out," he offers awkwardly, and takes a sip of tea as an excuse to avoid saying anything more. What exactly are Rodney and Ronon _doing_ out at those ruins? What’s taking so long?

"I knew you would understand," nods Ruara. "Consider your own marriage."

John manages not to spit tea across the table. The teenager, damn her, perks up.

"You are the military commander of your people, are you not?"

"He is," affirms Teyla. Whose side is she on, anyway?

"Well then, the marriage of such a person is hardly a matter to be left to chance. There are many factors to consider. Would it be more profitable to choose a spouse from among your own people? Or to use the match to cement ties with a valuable trading partner, hmmm?" Ruara sips her own tea. Both she and her daughter are watching John now, the girl with avid interest, the mother more shrewdly.

He considers faking an emergency radio call. Can he count on Teyla to back him on it?

"...can’t solve everything with C4, Conan!"

Thank you, god. Rodney’s back.

"The reading _might_ be from a natural source, it might _not_ be. That’s irrelevant given that one, it’s buried underneath 500 metres of solid rock with no apparent means of access, and two, it’s too weak to bother digging through that much rock to get to. Which means that unless Teyla and Sheppard have managed to trade for something more or less edible, this entire trip has been a waste of my valuable time that could have been better spent..."

"Rodney, Ronon," drawls John. "Nice of you to join us."

"Good, at least there’s food," replies Rodney, dropping onto the bench beside John and reaching for a pastry. It’s halfway to his mouth when he freezes and looks at John.

"Go ahead, buddy, it’s citrus-free. So’s the tea, if La’a – Ainne, is it? – will pour you some?" John gives the teenager his best smile. He can risk it now. With the trade deals already concluded an hour ago and Rodney and Ronon back from the ruins, John and his team can escape at short notice. Before anyone gets married.

Ainne scowls at him, but pours tea for Rodney, who grumbles that it’s not coffee.

"Yeah, drink it anyway, McKay. I’m not carrying you back to the jumper after you pass out from manly dehydration." Rodney glares at him, but drinks.

Ronon snorts and accepts his own cup of tea from Ainne, who also slips him _two_ pastries.

"I am sorry to hear that our ruins did not prove to be worth your time, Dr. McKay," says Ruara politely.

"Well, there might have something there _once_, but the site’s so accessible that people have obviously been digging at it for centuries, probably chipping off whatever bits and pieces they thought looked pretty without any idea that they were destroying technology that was so beyond their own primitive comprehension that... What?!"

Rodney breaks off to glare at John, who blinks innocently. My foot? Your shin? Nah, _my_ foot would _never_ do something like that!

"We appreciate your generosity in allowing Dr. McKay the chance to investigate the site," Teyla fills in.

Ruara nods and smiles.

John takes another pastry for Rodney. He waits until Rodney’s actually got it in his mouth before contributing earnestly, "Dr. McKay is particularly appreciative." Rodney’s blue eyes fire up with indignation, so John gives his shin a warning tap. Just a light one.

"Of course," says Ruara. "And you so well illustrate the point I was about to make earlier – regarding your marriage?"

This time it’s Rodney who chokes. John pounds him on the back helpfully.

"You have known Dr. McKay for how long, Colonel?"

"Uh, six years." Now what’s she leading up to?

"You see? And in that time, you have come to be comfortable with – dare I say, even fond of? – each other."

What the hell? "La’a Ruara, I’m not sure I understand..."

"Oh, come, Colonel, no need to play coy. Your people’s military commander? Their chief scholar? You can hardly expect me to believe that such a match came about by sheer chance. No, no, it was very wisely done – and look how fortunately it has turned out!"

By the time Ruara reaches the end of that remark, there’s no longer even a pretense that she’s talking to John. Her eyes are fixed firmly on Ainne. And this is when John realizes that not only have he and Rodney been taken for a married couple – they’re being used as poster children for _successful arranged marriages_.

The ensuing silence is broken by, of course, Rodney. "Oh my god, you have _got_ to be kidding me!"

This time John not only kicks Rodney’s shin, he also throws an arm over the man’s shoulders and squeezes. It’s a position that he can convert to a choke-hold at a moment’s notice, and Rodney knows it.

"I admire your perception," John tells Ruara. Ainne, almost as red-faced as Rodney, glares at John and her mother with equal loathing.

"Oh, ffft, it is obvious to anyone with eyes to see," Ruara waves off the compliment, but looks pleased. "And we are in agreement that marriage is too important a matter to be left to young people’s whims, yes?"

"Yes. Definitely too important." John nods decisively.

"Very good. Specialist Dex, I believe that you yourself are a widower and have not yet remarried?"

Ainne, the fickle chit, perks back up immediately. Ronon looks uncharacteristically nervous.

Oh _shit_, thinks John.


End file.
